The life of a dead man
by allround just plain fun
Summary: Hermione gets a job at Flourish & Blotts and the boy she works with look just like the deceased Draco Malfoy. Love sparks between the two. But what if he is Draco, can he still live the life of secrets when Hermione tell him of her undying love.
1. his new life

As a child and teenager I was nothing but a copy of my father. Judged before I was known and know only as the son of a Malfoy. Nothing more, nothing less. From birth expected to be a _true _pureblood. Everyone _knew_ I would become a death eater. Just like father. They never got to know the real me, then one who only did it to please said father. Not because he wanted to serve the dark lord.

I regret that choice even now. After all I only did it to please the man, a man who cared nothing for me.

Now I am scarred with the dark mark. Disgracing my body and soul. Now ever time my robe slides down my arm or when I go to have a shower or bath, it mocks me. Reminding me of my poor choice, of the person I once was. That little boy bent on satisfying his father.

I am no longer that person. After the war I was believed to be dead. I happily left it that way. I changed my name, first and last. I also got a job at Flourish & Blotts. The old man who now owns it, thought I was a boy made an orphan by the war. I lit him believe this.

Now I was nothing but a young adult. Just a face in the crowed. Nothing but a glint in the corner of a mans eye. I'm free to live my life the way I want to, not as a Malfoy, but simple a boy.

**The dead mans new life.**

It's five in the morning and pouring down with rain, but that does not stop Diagon Alley from being pack like it was the most famous players in quiditch having it out.

I try to make my way through the public, weaving and dodging as I go. My hood is up and my face low, so I don't get wet. It's not that I hate rain; it's the effects after standing in the rain. I love the feeling of the rain sliding down my skin but loathe the coldness that lingers after.

I reach the little book shop where I work now and push the door open. The bell chimes as I enter. The warm air hits me immediately; I feel the warmth take a hold of me.

I search the room for the owner of the shop and see none. "Frank?" I call out. I receive no answer. "Frank? Where are you?" I know frank is not a young man, but he would never leave the door open.

"Over here, Damian." Comes a hoarse voice from the storage room.

That is my name now, Damian oak. I didn't change my appearance or anything; I still have the same blond hair and silver eyes. I did lie about my age, everyone believes I am two months older then I really am.

I walk out to where the voice came from. I see frank. His gray hair is gel back like I once had it, my hair is short again and I now lit it fall freely. The man's face is pointed and his nose is broad and he has thick eyebrows.

He seems to be sorting out a cheek list. He glances over his shoulder to me and smiles, the wrinkle around his mouth deepen. "Thanks once again for coming in so early to help." I give a simple nod. Frank pushes his self up with a small groan while holding his back. He shakes his head and says to me "I'm not as young as I used to be." With a small chuckle.

"The holiday should do you some good, sir." I say. The man nods and mutters a 'yes' as he walks pass me into the other room. I follow.

He glances over his shoulder once more and asks. " Are you sure you can come here and open and close the shop?" I nod. "Yes, well, I'm going to hire someone else to help out."

"But Frank, I don't need help." I'm not letting someone _help _me. Draco Malfoy does not accept help, and nether does Damian Oak.

He turns around. "I know that my boy…It's just that…" He trails off, and his eyes drift to the floor.

"It's just what?" He gives a long sigh. He looks at me with big, brown, sad eyes.

"Damian, I'm not going to be around forever." I feel my heart twist in pain just by thinking about his death.

Frank's become…like…a father to me.

Lucius, my dad, was never truly much of one. The only time he ever shown interest in me, is when I got first or best in something. I was always second for grades, apart from potions, and our team always were next in line to win the quiditch cup. If I got second I received a slap across the back of my head _and_, an extremely boring lecture. If I obtain first, a pat on the back and a rant about how I was better then that 'Mud-blood' and how the dark lord would be proud of me.

"So that's why. I'm giving you the shop when I go so…" I stare at him, shocked.

"You're giving me the shop?" I ask. He smiles at me and nods then says.

"I don't have any children Damien, so…I thought, after everything you went through during the war, it the lest you deserve." I glance down at the floor sadly. _If only he knew._

"Frank…" I start with a sigh. "I am not worthy of your kindness" I really don't believe I am any more. After what my father did in the war…and what I did. I feel his hands on my shoulders and I gaze up at him.

"Oh, but Damien, you _are_. From what I have seen of you, even if everyone else in the word hated you, I would still think you deserve this." It's like he read my mind.

"Thank you." Is all I can say. His smile widens.

"You're welcome." He says simple.

I can feel the sun on my back as I close the shop. More people inhabit the streets now. I try to make my way through the crowd. After a long struggle I arrive at the Leaky Cauldron and push the door open.

As I walk into the bars atmosphere I smell alcohol and smoke wash over me. I scan the room looking for a certain black headed boy.

"Hey Damien. Over 'ere mate." I hear a deep voice call out to me. I look to my left to see a tall, tan, boy waving at me with a big grin on his face. I walk over to the boy and take a set. "I got you a drink okay." I nod and mutter a thanks.

The two of us sit and simple talk about are day and other stuff.

Some hours later the door opens and a cold breeze blows past us, coursing me to shiver slightly as it shifts along my neck. I pay no heed to the people who enter and carry on talking. Then, I hear that voice, those voices I hoped I would never hear again, the golden, bloody trio.

"Hey, Tom" Ron says. "you two go get a set and I order the drinks, the same as always?"

Out of the corner of my eye I see Potter and Granger move to an empty table. One of them stops.

"What is it Hermione?" Potter asks. She mumble a nothing and then says.

"See that boy over there? He looks a lot like Malfoy…do you think…?"

"Hermione. Malfoy died in the war." His voice is slightly lowered, but I hear no sadness. "Why would it matter? You hate Malfoy remember." She mutters a 'yeah' and they both wander of to the table. I realise a breath I did not know I was holding.

"So, Hermione do you know what you are doing to make the money?" even half way across the room a can still here his annoying voice.

"Hey, Damien. Didn't you say Frank was hiring?" I nod, I don't like where this is going. If I protest in any way it would seem odd. So I lit the events unfold.

"Hey miss!" Jimmy calls across the room turning many heads. The men turn around and mutter something under there breath and some girls giggle. I flinch, why did he have to do that?

Her brown eyes look at him with interest.

"I hear you want a job." He yells across the room. More people stare. I feel my face go red and I slouch down in the chair. Damn man.

"My friend 'ere" he says waving a finger above my head. "Boss want to hire someone" he then adds "He works at Flourish & Blotts, interested?" I stare at the table. She seems to think it over then says.

"Ok, I'll be over tomorrow to get a form and what not. Is that OK?"

"I don't know. Is it?" Assuming he asked me I glance up and give an acute nod. He grins.

"Yep!" once again, Damn man.


	2. job or no job?

Flourish and Blotts is empty, as it would be at six in the morning. With a flick of my wand, a group of books float to the top self and slid in. I walk across and repeat the previous action.

The rain is beating down hard on the windows and engulfing the room in sound. The only other noise is the shuffle of my feet and the clatter from the storage's room. Only Merlin knows what Frank is doing in there.

As the day went on, it began to become busier; sometimes someone would come and ask my opinion on a certain book or where they could find said book.

As the day draws to a close, I'm relived to not have seen Granger all day. Maybe she's not going to show up after all.

Just as this thought crosses my mind, the door opens and the bell goes. I pay it no notice of this person and carry on placing book in their rightful home.

Hearing the bell at the front desk ring, I leave my post to tend to their need. As I turn the corner my heart misses a beat. My fear has come true; there she stood in all her glory, Hermione, Jane, Granger.

I take in an unsteady breath trying to calm myself. _Just play it cool, she has no reason to believe your Draco. Remember, Draco's dead, your Damien oak now._

Forcing on a smile, I approach her. "Hi. How can I help you?" she returns the expression and says.

"Hi, I hear you are looking to hire."

"Yes, lit me just go get my boss." I swiftly turn, glad to no longer have to witness her face and advance to the storage room. "Frank?" I call out, after receiving no answer, I say a little louder. "Frank?"

"Yes my boy? What is it?" comes his gruff reply.

"There's a young lady out here who wants a job."

"Job? Ahh, yes! The job." He says, and soon after comes around the corner and sweeps past me. A little irritated that he paid no attention oto me I slowly trail behind him. Feeling I'm not needed for the interview, I set off to carry on with my previous job.

As soon as I'm shadowed by the bookcase I release a sigh of relief, glad she did not mention anything. All it was that it would be an extremely uncomfortable for me. and besides, Hermione is no fool.

I drag my feet up the stone stairs, the landing of my feet echoing throughout the stairway. A yawn pushes its way through my lips and I rub my left eye weary. _Looks like the early morning and late nights are getting to me._

Finally, I reach my flat and open the door without really guiding myself to do so. The door clicks and I push it open. My hearing is swallowed by the hum of the TV and my smell overwhelmed by the odor of alcohol. "Peter." I curse under my breath.

Peter is my room mate. No longer using my fa- sorry, Lucius money I could not afforded to buy a house straight out. At first I rented a flat, I found that difficulty, so I got a job at Flourish and Blotts. I still found it rather harsh with the payment I received at my new job. Then, I met Peter, the two of us became good friends and he needed a place to stay so I let him live with me and we slit the rent.

Most of the time we get a long fine, but it's when he drinks in the house. He can't go to the pub like every else, _no _it to 'smelly' for him, so instead he stinks out our house.

Hearing a smash from the kitchen my eyes narrow and a growl escapes me. _What has he done __**this **__time?_

I storm over to the source of the noise, shove the swinging door open and prepare for an argument about looking after our things. (Which I paid for, apart from his room)

Instead I find Peter embracing a blonde woman, he has her wedged between his body and the worn out counter. His hands are roaming her tiny form, while hers are wrapped securely around his broad neck.

_How dare he! Making out with a woman in our kitchen, I mean he has a bedroom._

When neither seem to hear or spot me, I clear my throat, my rage slowly building. Both spin around to see, most likely, a really irritated face. "Peter" I curse once again.

The blond girl is blushing strongly and says. "I should get going now." she then looks at peter, smiles weekly and gives a quick goodbye then dashes out of the room.

"Peter" I growl. "What the hell? Why can't you flipping snog her in _your _room?" he gives a one shoulder shrug.

"I guess I got carried away."

_Carried away? Carried away?! _

"I think you got a little more than 'carried away' you were sucking the poor girls face off!" a small smirk forms on his dark face.

"What's the matter Damien? Oh, are you jealousy?"

_Jealousy? The nerve of that man._

"No. Peter I am _not_ jealousy. Okay?" his smirk remains.

"If you say so." I growl again, then lit out a frustrated sigh, there is really no reasoning with this man.

I push past him and cast a spell to make myself tea.

"I think she's the one." Peter says a little dazed.

"You said that last month, with that redhead." Now it's Peter turn to growl.

"Well she different." He snaps. "Back then I was nothing but a child, I've grown up now." I snort at this statement, but it goes unheard.

_Grown up my ass._ I think. Last month he had some young redhead, most likely younger then eighteen, and for hours on end they would disappear in that room of his. They would both come out sweetly and sometimes their breath would be a little raged.

"So, how long have you been seeing her for?"

"Two weeks." Is his simple answer.

After having my tea, I went to sleep. But unfortunately, when I woke up I didn't feel refreshed.

When I was ready, I floo to work.

Halfway through the day Frank approaches me. "Thanks, Damien." I stare at him baffle.

"For what?" I ask.

"For telling that, Hermione, about the job opening. If it weren't for you, I don't think I would have another good employee. Her NEWTs were as good as yours, top marks in everthing she did." He grins his appreciation, and chuckles. "Both my worker got top marks and are working for me."

I return the smile, but in the inside cursing Merlin to hell. "When is she starting, sir?"

"I believe Its next Wednesday" his smile broad's. "You can help her out. Right?" I nod. "Good."


End file.
